Monthly Archives: March 2011

I have no more time to keep monkeying around, lest I get fired (!). I think I’ve done what I can (except check the lines for further blockage… which I hope is an easy fix to just flush the line out). I’ve taken out the new fuel pump and put it back together, changed all rubber fuel lines, and replaced the fuel filter. Crank the engine but the lines are still bone dry. The fuel filter is dry and empty, nothing is sucking up the gas from the tank. I was already starting to drain the battery and my sanity, when I figured might as well spend some reasonableness and have someone with a clear mind take a look at it. And so now I’m here at a local Border’s, probably the only one left in the San Fernando Valley, waiting for word on the Shitzuki situation.. Le sigh.

The Shitzuki bailed out on me a few weeks after his maiden voyage into the depths of Death Valley last year. He turns over but refuses to fire up. I haven’t gotten around to figuring out what’s ailing him.

And so with a little advice from Alex my co-worker, we figure out that the engine ain’t getting no juice since he coughs up to life when you pour gas straight into the carb. Possibly a defective fuel pump. I finally got around to replacing it this morning and with bright cheery eyes I turned the ignition but was met with the cold sputter of a thirsty engine. No dice, no gas.

I reroute the fuel line to a water bottle so I can drink the gas myself when it comes out of the pump, but when we turn the engine the only thing that comes out are rudimentary curse words not suitable for my mouth. Mother effer. I’m changing out all the gas lines and the fuel filter tonight. The Balls of Steel offroad team has a trip scheduled for the weekend, and in true Lovine fashion, we like preparing at the last minute to increase our chances of encountering so called ‘adventures’ of the spontaneous kind. Le sigh.

They first caught my attention when I was listening to an episode of This American Life on NPR, which had a Radiolab segment. Instantly hooked. In a nutshell, both their shows remind me of what it feels like to be genuinely entertained. Not by passively being fed garbage in front of a television, but by finding myself asking questions and getting immersed into a story, which rarely happens when you have the attention span of a goldfish. Great stuff, and really put well together. On par with TAL. Which is a pretty high bar. In this decade of cheap thrills, it’s always a great blessing to find gems in the rough and tumble that we call the internet (and the radio).

And so I could not contain my excitement when I heard via The Scenestar about a live taping at UCLA’s Royce Hall. The first show sold out yesterday, and I was hanging around Ticketmaster’s site until they stopped selling tickets at 5pm. I knew there were still seats open in the balcony, so I head to the box office alone. The only other friends who care enough to know who they are, are in SF (hi Kat and Basso) but I had no hesitation to do a solo flight, as usual. It’s kinda weird to finally see what you’re familiar only hearing. So when I heard the show’s opening theme when Jad pressed a button on his monome as they were starting, it brought a real smile to my face.

Zoe Keating did the live scoring and a few numbers during the night. Love her music also, very rich using only a cello and a loop machine to layer her sound. I’ve seen other artists layer their sound using a loop machine (lucky enough to see John Scofield), but she creates a really complete orchestra and complex textures that you really need to see (and hear) to appreciate. I don’t know why I just bought a Radiolab shirt and not her CD, but if she plays again anywhere near soon, I’m totally there.

I’m still amazed at the entire thing. And I didn’t even get to write about the theme of tonight’s show. I just hope I have my hair parted at the correct side. More on this next time.

My friend Big Zupancic lied to me and claimed that the reason why he was not replying to my texts inviting him for lunch, was that he was swamped with work. His wonderful girlfriend Karen Kay let the cat out of the bag and admitted that he actually just woke up after I sent the text and was late to work.

Fast forward 36 hours later (after randomly running into him and having a few beers), and I get pulled over by Makati police for defying a red light turning left into a one way street. Big is in the car behind me and pulls over to check if everything is alright. Long story short, he is one of the smoothest operators known to man and sweet talks me out of my impending traffic violation ticket.

My head is going to explode. As expected, my last full day on the field held more than this month’s quota for stress, caused by massive disappointment in certain decision making skills of people you expect to know better. Sometimes it makes me think how futile my time is behind this monitor trying to get data in order, when apparently the real battle is where you aren’t looking.

Greetings from Guam. In another round of hamster wheeling, I laid out a 15-hour workday yesterday (Saturday) powered by an increasing addiction to coffee. It’s Sunday and I’m getting kicked out of the coffee shop soon. Wrote and polished off a few macros to run as a morning job that consolidates reports (that are strictly designed for printing to paper – i.e. there are no columns and easy way to dump to Excel) across 6 disparate systems. Fun times.

Indeed the state of all who are preoccupied is wretched, but the most wretched are those who are toiling not even at their own preoccupations, but must regulate their sleep by another’s, and their walk by another’s pace, and obey orders in those freest of all things, loving and hating. If such people want to know how short their lives are, let them reflect how small a portion is their own.

Seneca (On the Shortness of Life pp.31-32)

Just ran into this, via. It’s not everyday that I find, or read things that immediately draw me in. I’m totally getting this book.